


hokori

by hatebeat



Category: K (Anime)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatebeat/pseuds/hatebeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HOMRA aren't usually the good guys, and the first time is always the hardest. Set ~2 years pre-series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hokori

He let Kusanagi-san usher him away with a steady hand between his shoulderblades, but Yata wasn't even sure whether or not his feet were moving. He wasn't sure whether or not he was doing a lot of things. Breathing, for one. Blinking. That kind of thing. Yata felt frozen.

"Saruhiko," Yata murmured at some point, his voice raspy, but he couldn't be sure how long it had been since... since _that_ happened, since...

"You want us to take you back to your place, Yata-san?" Yata turned his head slightly, but he wasn't really seeing anything. That was Kama's voice, though. Back to his place?

Saruhiko was there. Yeah, he wanted to go home. Maybe just get in bed and get under all the blankets and maybe Saruhiko would get in with him and just put his arm over him or something. Saru had always been there for him through everything else. But this time... he felt himself shaking his head. No.

"He's... studying for his exams."

That was right. The reason Saruhiko wasn't out here with him, going through this with him- Saruhiko had exams tomorrow. Right.

Even though Saruhiko was his partner.

"Let's just get him back to headquarters. The kid could stand to be patched up a bit," Kusanagi-san said.

It wasn't until he was sitting on the couch back at HOMRA that he looked down at his shirt. Blood. Right. Yata sat forward and rigid, his fingers digging into his thighs. He wasn't sure he'd blinked in a while, still.

Totsuka-san started to poke at him a little bit, and when Yata realised what he was poking at, he finally noticed that he was cut up a little bit. Yata hadn't felt it at all. _I'm okay_ , he wanted to tell Totsuka-san. _I'm fine._

No words would come out of his mouth, though. He couldn't even make his lips move.

"You let them cut you pretty deep, huh?" Totsuka-san asked him, all smiles. Yata just looked up at him slowly, taking that in. He let them? 

"Didn't let them get away with it," he heard himself say in response, but his voice barely managed above a whisper. Totsuka-san really looked him in the eye, then, but Yata wasn't looking at him. He was looking somewhere beyond. He was still... _seeing_...

Someone pressed a mug into his hands. Hot. Somehow, the heat pressing into his palms was comforting. Yata took a drink. Hot chocolate with whiskey...? He nodded appreciatively to Kusanagi-san, took a deep breath, and then took another swallow. Letting the heat from the drink flow into him was comforting.

 

It was maybe an eternity later. Yata had no idea how much time had passed, but the bar had gotten darker, quieter, and someone had put a blanket on him. At some point he'd laid down on the couch. So it was late, right? He could hear Kusanagi-san, he assumed. Walking around, cleaning up some things.

Maybe Yata wanted to go to sleep, but he couldn't. He closed his eyes, but every time he couldn't stop _seeing_...

Instead, he pulled the blanket over his head, and kept his eyes open. After a while, even the sounds of Kusanagi-san faded away. Yata was left alone. He let out a deep, quaking breath, a sigh he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Maybe he'd been holding it in since it happened.

Despite how quiet it had become, the blanket was suddenly lifted from his face. Eyes snapping wide, Yata craned his neck back and looked up, defensive, but he was only looking into the eyes of his King.

"Drink too much again?" Mikoto-san asked him, looking him over a little bit. He was eyeing Yata's bandages. Somehow, that made him feel ashamed.

"I killed someone," Yata admitted, his voice nothing but a rough whisper. Saying it now... that made it real. That made it sink in for real. Mikoto-san just looked at him with an expression that Yata couldn't read at all.

He felt like a stupid kid. Their King, he was this big great person. He'd killed people, too. He wasn't an idiot about it like Yata was being. And yet...

Yata clutched at his chest a bit. Somehow, it hurt...

Mikoto-san's open palm fell softly on Yata's head, and he felt, more than heard, Mikoto-san's sigh.

"It'll happen again," Mikoto-san warned him. Yata didn't even want to think about that right now. Mikoto-san killed, yeah, but he always killed with his aura, right? With his _fire_.

Yata doubted Mikoto-san had ever bashed someone's face into the pavement with an aluminum bat before. Yata squeezed his eyes shut, his stomach churning at the thought.

But Mikoto-san was right. It would happen again. 

"That's fine," Yata slowly assured both Mikoto-san and himself. "No blood, no bone, no ash."

That was right: it _would_ happen again. He was HOMRA, and this was the life that Mikoto-san had given him.


End file.
